


Can I Get A Connection?

by eternaleponine



Series: Lexa the Cable Girl [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Disaster Clarke, F/F, Lexa the Cable Girl, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: The cable tech is scheduled to arrive at 10 am to set up Wi-Fi in Clarke's new apartment.  When there's a knock at the door at 9:18 am, Clarke definitely isn't ready for company... but what choice does she have but to let her (her?!) in?  Knowing exactly where to go to get things set up, Lexa heads straight for Clarke's bedroom... and seeswaymore than she bargained for.Based onthis postbyDreamsAreMyWords.  This isn't my first fic written to tease her, and I'm sure it won't be my last.  😉😂
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: Lexa the Cable Girl [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054520
Comments: 80
Kudos: 625
Collections: Clexa





	Can I Get A Connection?

**Your technician is on the way. See you soon!**

Clarke blinked, reading the words again, and then a third time. Her technician...?

There was a knock on the door, and her heart leapt into her throat. Her technician! To install the router and give her Wi-Fi. The person who would finally, at long last, reconnect her with the rest of the (digital) world!

... forty minutes early. 

Clarke scrambled out of bed, near faceplanting in her haste to disentangle herself from her sheets. She tugged on a pair of joggers that were something resembling clean and checked to make sure there wasn't anything on her from her midnight snack the night before... and realized the shirt was almost completely translucent. 

_Shit._

She yanked it off and found the bra she'd so cavalierly tossed away when she got home from work yesterday, slipping it on and reaching behind herself to fasten it, only to discover it was inside out. She growled and took it off, turning it the right way round and getting at least a couple of the hooks through their loops before throwing the t-shirt she'd slept in back on because it would have to do. At least she wouldn't be giving the poor hapless tech an eyeful... although if he was anything like most of the guys she'd met, he wouldn't mind. But she needed him to focus on connecting wires, not her tits, so it was for the best.

Clarke darted into the living room, looking helplessly around at the various sketchpads and DVD cases and dishes strewn on every surface. She told herself he'd almost certainly seen worse, and anyway, it was his own fault for showing up at 9:18 for a 10 o'clock appointment! 

Another knock, a little louder, and Clarke growled as she combed her fingers through her hair to calm the worst of her bedhead. "Just a second," she called, picking up a dish and dumping it into the sink on her way to the door. "I'm coming!"

She yanked the door open and froze.

* * *

Lexa blinked, glancing down at her paperwork then back at the disheveled woman in front of her. Did she have the wrong place? Based on the name she'd assumed... But everyone knew what happened when one assumed. "Clarke Griffin?" 

"That's me," the woman said. "You're early." 

Lexa glanced down again even though she didn't wear a watch. She _was_ early, but people didn't usually complain about that. They usually complained if she was late, even if it was only by a few minutes. "My last job didn't take as long as expected," she said by way of explanation. "They should have called you to tell you I was on my way. I'm Lexa, by the way."

"I got the text about 30 seconds before you knocked," Clarke said. 

"Sorry about that," Lexa said. "I'll try to be quick." She flashed her best customer service smile (which according to her boss wasn't very good, but he said it in the nicest way possible and she thought he might be mostly joking) and headed for the bedroom. This was her third install in the complex this week, and for some reason when they'd constructed the building they'd decided it would be a good idea to feed the cable up through the bedroom closet, so she already knew where to go.

She pushed open the door, ready to visually tune out messy beds and piles of laundry and the usual things that one saw in bedrooms when the poor unsuspecting customer had no idea she would need to go in there, but the first thing she saw when she stepped inside was impossible to ignore: a dildo.

A gigantic black and blue swirled dildo sitting right there on a box on the floor, encased in a clear plastic tube like it was meant to be on display. 

Which would have been bad enough, but it was accompanied by a variety of other silicone cocks in various sizes and hues, and Lexa felt the heat rising in her cheeks, flaring out to the tips of her ears, and she forced herself to keep moving, averting her eyes and focusing on the task at hand.

She gingerly nudged aside a thong with the toe of her boot and knelt on the closet floor, fishing around for the cable hookup and working as quickly as she could to get it connected... which would have been a hell of a lot easier if her hands weren't shaking like leaves in an autumn wind... or maybe snowflakes in in a blizzard (although she guessed those didn't really _shake_ so much as get hurled through space), which was more appropriate given that Clarke seemed to have turned the air conditioning down to temperatures typically not seen outside of the Arctic. 

Which helped cool the flush in her face, at least. 

She could hear Clarke moving around the room, probably trying to tidy up, but it was too late. There was no way for Lexa to unsee what she'd seen, and she would probably laugh about it later, maybe over beers with her boss, but right now she just needed to get the job done.

* * *

_She saw them,_ Clarke thought. _There's no way she didn't see them._ There had only been the slightest hesitation as Lexa stepped into the room, but they were _right there_. Clarke tossed a towel over them so they would be hidden when Lexa re-emerged, and maybe they could both pretend that out of sight was out of mind and there was nothing to see here. 

_These aren't the dildos you're looking for,_ Clarke thought, swallowing a slightly hysterical laugh as she tried not to stare at Lexa's ass. It was the only part of her she could see from here, and her jeans looked like they were poured on, hugging her in all the right places. The flannel shirt and tool belt riding low on her hips only made it sexier.

 _Get your mind out of the gutter, Griffin,_ she chided herself. _This is real life, not a porno._ Even if the situation was so ridiculous she would think it was the kind of thing that only happened on the screen if she wasn't living every single humiliating second of it. 

"All right," Lexa said, standing up and brushing off her hands. "The router's all set. Kind of a dumb place for it, I know. I can move it for you if you want, but it'll mean stringing cables through the apartment and it might take a while. Up to you." 

"It's fine," Clarke said. 

"Great." Lexa hooked one thumb into her tool belt, and Clarke's eyes were immediately drawn to the tiniest sliver of skin between her jeans and the tank she wore under her flannel. "Do you have a laptop, or...?"

"In the living room," Clarke said, finally feeling like she'd caught a break. Better dirty dishes than dirty underwear.

"Great," Lexa said again, and from how quickly she sauntered (because of course she was somehow capable of beating a hasty retreat and still making it look like she hadn't a care in the world, and Clarke couldn't help thinking about what _else_ she might be capable of, but now was _not_ the time for that, damn it!) out of the room, Clarke was sure she meant it. 

Clarke followed her, trying to see past her to the living room to make sure there weren't any landmines waiting for them there. She fished her laptop out from under several throw pillows and a blanket and plunked herself down on the couch, flipping open the lid. 

The screen sprang to life... revealing a drawing she'd done of two of her favorite TV characters – both women, naturally – _in conflagrate delicto_ , one pressing her lips to the other's neck, her hand splayed across her ribs just below her full breast while her lover arched up into the touch, eyes closed and mouth open in a gasp. 

_Shit!_ She closed the laptop quickly, but Lexa had been standing just behind her, and she'd seen it. Clarke didn't have to look at her to know she'd seen it, just like she'd seen everything else, and could this day get any worse? 

"Why don't I do it on the Playstation?" Clarke suggested. "It'll be easier for you to see." 

"Sure," Lexa said easily. "Whatever works best for you." 

Clarke turned on the TV... and if spontaneous human combustion was actually a thing, she would have gone up in flames on the spot, because of _course_ she'd changed her background to another piece of art. It was _slightly_ less R-rated than the one on her laptop... but only slightly. At least they had clothes on, but it was pretty clear that that wouldn't be true for much longer if one let one's imagination wander just a little.

She fumbled with the remote, bringing up the menu with the network settings and watched as a list of networks popped up. "That one at the top is yours," Lexa said. "Once we get everything set up you can download our app and change the network name, password, all of that. For now, though—" She rattled off Clarke's password, and Clarke managed to get it entered without further embarrassment. 

"Do you want me to walk you through setting up your email? I know no one under the age of 60 really uses their ISP-provided email, but..." Lexa trailed off, and Clarke dared a glance up at her. She looked cool as a cucumber...

... or maybe a little cooler. Her flannel was unbuttoned, and the shifting of her tool belt had tugged it to the side enough to reveal the fact that she was just a little chilly, and _definitely_ not wearing a bra. 

Clarke swallowed. 

"I'm good," she said, her voice coming out as more of a squeak.

"Are you going to need to set up any additional profiles for members of your household?" Lexa asked. 

And Clarke was probably imagining it, or projecting, because it was almost certainly a routine question, but there was a tiny part of her (that lived a few inches south of her navel) that wondered if maybe Lexa was trying to suss out whether Clarke lived alone. Not that one's living situation had anything to do with one's relationship status, necessarily – you didn't have to be single to live alone – but it improved the odds.

"It's just me," she said, finally meeting Lexa's eyes for the first time since her arrival. 

Lexa nodded, her tongue darting out to trace her lower lip, living a faint slick sheen behind, and it was all Clarke could do not to squirm. If she pulled a Chapstick from her pocket... but that definitely wasn't happening, because if she had anything in her pockets, Clarke would have been able to see it. "Is there anything else you need?" Lexa asked. 

_Your number?_ , the devil on Clarke's shoulder helpfully supplied. She mentally batted it away. "I think I'm all set," she said. "Thanks for coming." 

"Not a problem," Lexa said. She took a step toward the door, and Clarke bounced up to open it for her and told herself it wasn't just so Lexa would have to brush past – and possibly against – her on the way out. "You have a good day." 

"You too," Clarke said, lingering in the door until Lexa disappeared around a corner, then shut it and fell back against it with a thump. 

"Fuck my life," she muttered... and that little part of her twinged in agreement.

* * *

Lexa climbed back in her truck, collapsing into the driver's seat like she'd just run a marathon rather than completing one of the simplest of all installs. 

"What. The. Fuck," she muttered. She'd seen a lot of things on the job, but today... today took the cake. Hands down, number one slot on the Most Awkward Installs of All Time. 

She glanced at the clock, and her list of appointments, and decided she had enough time to take a break. She'd sure as hell earned one. She fished out her phone and called Lincoln. 

"Hey," he said, picking up on the first ring. "I thought you were working."

"I am," she said. "I'm between jobs. You would not believe what just happened." 

"Are you actually going to tell me? Or are you going to pull your usual trick of hinting at some epic situation and then backing down like there's some kind of sacred bond of trust between a customer and their cable tech on par with doctor-patient confidentiality." 

"More like attorney-client privilege, I think," Lexa said, fighting back a smile. "But no. I'll tell you, as long as you swear you won't tell anyone else."

"Scout's honor," Lincoln said, and even though Lexa couldn't see him, she knew he was holding up three fingers. Or was it two for Boy Scouts? Whatever it was, he was doing it. Maybe even had his hand over his heart, although then how would he be holding the phone? 

"So I got to my last job early..." Lexa went on to tell him about Clarke-who-turned-out-to-be-a-woman and her see-through shirt (but she'd been wearing a bra, and maybe it was meant to be fashion?, but the rest of her disheveled appearance made it more likely she'd just crawled out of bed) and the sex toy collection just laying out for all the world to see, and the erotic art on every electronic device she owned, apparently. (Lexa hadn't seen her phone, but she didn't see why it would be immune. Maybe the lock screen, for propriety's sake when out in the world...) By the time she finished, Lincoln was wheezing with laughter, and it took him a minute to compose himself.

"Okay, but here's the _really_ important question," Lincoln said. 

"What?" Lexa asked, her stomach twisting because there were so many ways for this to go terribly wrong. 

"Or two questions, actually," Lincoln said. 

"What?!" Lexa demanded. 

"One – is she cute? And two – is she single?"

Lexa groaned. She should have seen that coming; Lincoln was desperate to prove his skills as a wingman since her last relationship had crashed and burned. 

"Well...?" he prompted. 

"No," Lexa said, hoping she could shut it down right then and there. And it wasn't a lie, either. Clarke wasn't cute. Clarke was _hot_. There was a difference. Cute made you want to cuddle and pet someone. Hot made you want to... Lexa cleared her throat. 

"Uh-huh," Lincoln said. "I absolutely 100% believe you... are a complete liar. So is she single?"

Lexa groaned. "How the hell would I know?" she asked, then admitted what she did know. "She lives alone, though." 

"You should call her," Lincoln said. "Her number has to be on her paperwork, right?"

Lexa shook her head. It _was_ , obviously, but... "I would lose my job," she said. "And I like my job." Which was only semi-true. It was more accurate to say she didn't hate her job. The pay was decent and she wasn't chained to a desk, and she got free internet and cable with all the channels. There was still never anything on, but that wasn't the point.

Lincoln was quiet for a moment, considering. "You could give her your number," he suggested. "Just in case she has any problems with her service." 

"I—" Lexa stopped. She _could_ do that. There was nothing in their policies that said she couldn't. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't, because she didn't want to be anyone's personal tech support line, but there was nothing normal about what she'd just been through. But she finally shook her head. "I already left. It would be too weird to go back."

"Say you forgot something," Lincoln said. 

"I didn't."

"She doesn't know that," Lincoln pointed out. "Come on, Lex. What've you got to lose?"

Lexa snorted. "I dunno, my dignity?"

"Lexa. Dignity ceased to be part of the discussion the second you set foot in her sex dungeon and on her panties. Go back and give the girl your number. That's all you have to do. If she's interested, she'll call. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?" 

"I hate you," Lexa grumbled. 

"I know," Lincoln said, sounding cheerful as morning sunshine. "Call me later and tell me how it goes."

"Never," Lexa said, but they both knew she would.

* * *

Clarke peeled herself away from the door and picked up her laptop, determined to get some work done, but as soon as she flipped open the lid and saw the image on her screen, her face flushed anew, and the warmth trickled down through her belly and pooled between her legs. She knew there was no way she was getting anything done until she'd burned the image of Lexa's ass in those jeans and her nipples straining against the thin cotton of her tank out of her head. 

She dropped the laptop back on the couch and retreated to her room. She glanced at the towel she'd tossed over her collection of toys, but they were really more fun with another person to play with, and anyway, she wanted to get off fast and hard. She slid open the drawer on her bedside table and pulled out her trusty vibrator, who had never once let her down. She slipped it inside her joggers, but the material got in the way of free movement, so she shimmied out of them and kicked them aside, spreading her legs and turning up the speed a notch. 

She ran her other hand up under her shirt, popping one breast free of its cup and tweaking the nipple, bringing it to a point and rolling it between her fingers, hard and then more gently, closing her eyes and letting her imagination roam. Her hips rolled, letting sensation build quickly but not too quickly, because the only thing worse than no orgasm was one that she knew hadn't reached its full potential. 

Her breath sped up and she moved to her other breast, wishing she'd thought to remove her bra before laying down, but there was nothing for it now. She told herself her imaginary lover who definitely wasn't wearing Lexa's face had been too eager to waste time with undressing beyond the absolute essentials, and dug her teeth into her lower lip as she felt the first wave begin to crest. 

She moaned, long and loud, not holding back.

* * *

Lexa froze, her hand raised, knuckles a fraction of an inch from the door. She'd been about to knock when a sound came through the door that was somewhere between a sob and a groan. 

"Clarke?" she called, then realized she wasn't on a first name basis with this woman. She was a customer, not a friend, but that didn't mean she could just walk away when she might be in trouble. "Ms. Griffin, are you okay?"

Silence. A silence so resounding it echoed in Lexa's ears, and for a split second she thought she'd gone suddenly deaf. Then she heard shuffling, and the click of the lock, and the door opened.

* * *

Clarke froze, seconds away from what had been building up to an epic climax, and couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry or scream or just let herself come and be done with it. 

But it had been Lexa's voice at the door, asking if she was okay. The woman had barely said a dozen words while she was here, but Clarke was absolutely certain she would recognize that voice anywhere, that her ears would be searching for it everywhere. 

_No,_ she thought. _I am not o-fucking-kay._

She could ignore it. She could pretend she hadn't heard. 

Or...

She clicked off her vibrator and dropped it into the sheets and got up to answer the door.

* * *

_Shit._

_Holy shit._

_Mission compromised! Abort!_ Lexa's mind screamed, but she couldn't seem to do anything but stare as Clarke revealed herself for the second time that day... but this time revealed really was the word. Her hair was a mess and she hadn't tried to fix it and her breasts were halfway out of her bra. Lexa was sure she could see glimpses of nipple through the worn to translucence material of her shirt.

And she wasn't wearing any pants. 

"Tool!" Lexa blurted. Her cheeks stained crimson as she realized what she'd said, but her brain was short-circuiting as she tried not to take in the length of Clarke's legs and the way the shirt she wore barely skimmed the tops of her thighs and—

 _Get it together, Woods,_ she chided. _Just give her your number and go._

But that wasn't the plan. Not the entire plan. She had to explain why she'd come back. 

"I forgot my tool," she clarified, and tried not to notice the way Clarke's lips twitched at the corners at the word tool, and Lexa tried not to think about what she might be thinking, what kind of tool she might be imagining, considering...

But Clarke wasn't going to let her off the hook that easy. "What kind of tool?" she asked, trying to make it sound innocent and failing entirely... or maybe she wasn't even trying.

"Screwdriver," Lexa said, the first and only thing she could think of, and Clarke's smile just grew. 

"Where'd you leave it?" she asked. "Or did you just want to come in and get it?"

It was a question, but it sounded like a dare, and Lexa knew there was a right answer and a wrong answer. Her heart hammered against her ribcage and her cheeks felt like they might burst into flames, but she said, "Probably easier for me to just grab it." 

"By all means," Clarke said, opening the door just wide enough that in order for Lexa to slip by the Venn diagram of their personal bubbles had to become almost a circle. If Clarke had been a man – or anyone other than Clarke, really – it would have been uncomfortable, bordering on sexual harassment. But Lexa really didn't have any moral high ground to stand on when she was setting foot in the apartment for the second time under false pretenses. 

She nudged open the door to the bedroom, and there was a heaviness to the air, a musk that hadn't been there the first time... and a flash of neon pink tangled in the sheets that she was equally sure hadn't been present moments before. 

_That explains the no pants,_ Lexa thought. _And the... sound effects._ She ducked into the closet because she had to make it look convincing, right? She had to see the lie through. Then Clarke would walk her to the door and Lexa could give her her number 'just in case' and...

She slipped the screwdriver (which she hadn't even used for the install) from her toolbelt, hoping Clarke hadn't noticed it. "Found it!" she said brightly – _too brightly, tone it down, Woods,_ \- and turned around to discover that Clarke was _right there_ , and had probably seen right through the whole ruse. 

_Shit._

"I can't say I'm surprised you forgot it," Clarke said. "You kind of got an eyeful when you walked in. I swear I don't usually leave my... tool collection out on display. Had to be a little distracting." 

Lexa swallowed, her tongue darting out to wet her lip. "I didn't see any... tools," she said, her voice cracking on the word. "Or your underwear," she added hastily, and wished she could drop dead on the spot. 

Clarke didn't laugh. Not quite. But her mouth twitched and her eyes were bright and she took half a step closer and in order for Lexa to move away she would have had to go back in the closet and that was one thing she'd sworn she would never do. Even if it meant being close enough to the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen to feel the heat pulsing from her skin in waves. "Well," she said, her voice gone low and husky, "I'm not wearing any at the moment, so there's nothing to see..."

 _Oh **fuck**._

If there had been any doubt in Lexa's mind about whether Clarke had felt the same instantaneous but possibly misguided spark she had, it was gone now. 

"Oh," Lexa said softly.

* * *

This was wrong. Clarke knew it was wrong, knew the last thing she ought to be doing was hitting on the cable girl, because it was sexual harassment and she was just here to do a job. Except the job was done and she'd come back to retrieve a screwdriver which had been in her tool belt when she walked in, so clearly Clarke wasn't the only one with ulterior motives. 

And what did she have to lose? Her _dignity_? That had gone out the window the minute Lexa had walked in to see a veritable rainbow of faux phalluses on display. 

So why the fuck not? Clarke Griffin didn't do things halfway.

"Would you _like_ to see them?" Clarke asked, playing along.

Lexa's mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Clarke could see her pulse racing in her throat and was so, so tempted to press her lips to the spot, and her palm to her chest where her heart hammered hard enough that Clarke could see the vibration in her shirt. 

"But you probably have another job to get to," Clarke said, hope and disappointment waging war in her heart and places further south. 

Lexa's tongue darted out again, and Clarke let out a slow, shuddering breath as she watched its path across her lower lip, tipping forward onto her toes at the nearly overwhelming urge to chase it with her own. "Well," Lexa said, her voice a barely audible rasp, "I _am_ running early..."

Clarke's smirk cracked into a full-fledged grin, and she tugged the towel off of the hastily covered display. "Then take your pick." 

She watched Lexa's face as she took them in fully, all together and then one at a time, not touching but weighing and measuring them with her eyes, calculating, and Clarke started to feel dizzy as she nearly held her breath, waiting for Lexa to decide. 

"Which is your favorite?" Lexa asked, not quite looking at her. 

"Depends on my mood," Clarke said. "Right now, though... I'm in the mood for whatever."

Lexa's eyes flicked to her, and she gave the faintest nod before turning back to the parade of plastic and began wagging her finger between them, and if Clarke didn't know better she might have thought she was playing eeny meeny miney moe with them... except it turned out that was _exactly_ what Lexa was doing. When her finger stopped, Clarke's mouth went dry. 

_Fuck._

Because of course the one Lexa – or fate – had chosen was the only one in the collection Clarke had never used before. It had been a semi-gag gift from Raven, the sort of thing you saw and part of you cringed and another part of you wondered, 'Well what if...?'

Apparently Clarke was about to find out exactly what if.

She wasn't ready, and yet she was so fucking ready. "Let me find the harness."

It had been a while since she'd used it, but it didn't take long to find the desired item in her toybox. She handed it over with shaking hands, telling herself it was from excitement and not nerves. And she _was_ excited... but also scared as hell that somehow this was all going to blow up in her face like everything always blew up in her face and—

"Do you mind turning around?" Lexa asked. "Just for a second." 

Clarke obediently turned, fighting the urge to go to the bed to tidy it up. They were so far past that point. She heard a thud as Lexa's tool belt hit the floor – and would it be completely messed up to ask her to put it back on? – and two softer thumps as her boots joined it, then the soft metallic slide of her zipper and the swish of denim crumpling and the gentle clink of buckles. "Do you need a hand?" she asked as anticipation built as steadily as the throbbing between her legs. 

"I've got it," Lexa said. Another few seconds, and then, "You can turn around now."

Clarke turned and immediately had to put a hand on her dresser to steady herself as her knees went weak. Because standing in front of her was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, wearing only a loose flannel shirt, tight tank... and a giant black-and-blue galaxy-swirled strap. 

And every last trace of awkwardness and uncertainty was gone, erased and replaced by a woman who knew exactly who she was and what she was doing. She owned her body – including the parts that were only temporary – and she was ready, willing, and able to own Clarke's too. 

"Come here," she said, and Clarke came.

* * *

Clarke took a step toward her, and Lexa closed the distance between them, the strap jutting between her legs hitting Clarke's belly. Clarke reached down to adjust it, wrapping her fingers around it and stroking it like it was real, and for a second Lexa could almost imagine it was, her body thrilling at the very slight friction the push and pull motion gave her. But it wasn't enough. Not for either of them.

She put one hand on Clarke's hip and slid the other into her hair, drawing their mouths together in a hot, hungry kiss, all tongues and teeth and it wasn't usually how Lexa did things, but none of this was how Lexa usually did things and to hell with that anyway because look how 'usually' had worked out. They grabbed and tugged at each other, fingers fisting in material that was only in the way. 

Clarke was the first to pull away, growling in frustration and yanking Lexa's flannel off her shoulders and down her arms, where Lexa let go of Clarke long enough to let it fall from her wrists to the floor. Clarke's breath caught, and she traced the tattoo on Lexa's arm with her fingertips before grabbing hold and pulling her back into another clash of a kiss. Lexa reached under Clarke's shirt to unhook her bra, then decided to hell with it and stripped her of shirt and bra both, pulling her in so there was only one single thin layer of cotton between their breasts. 

"Fuck," Clarke groaned, her breath hot against Lexa's lips. She'd gone up on her toes and was rubbing against the strap, over the tip and along its length, making it slick with her arousal. Lexa reached down, holding it steady as she ground, tingling jolts shooting up her spine when Clarke moved just the right way to give Lexa a little pressure in return. But it quickly became clear that Clarke was getting more frustrated and no closer to getting off, so Lexa backed her up to the bed and laid her down, her elbow landing on the vibrator. 

"I don't think we'll be needing this," Lexa said, setting it out of the way, and slid her hand between Clarke's legs as she leaned down to kiss her – lips first, then down her throat and across her collarbone, down her sternum before taking first one nipple, then the other into her mouth, teasing them to points with an eager tongue while her fingers danced over Clarke's clit. 

"Lexa!" Clarke gasped, her back arching. "I'm gonna—" But she couldn't even finish telling her what she was going to do before she did it, her body tensing then releasing with a groan. When she opened her eyes, she looked at Lexa with a mix of awe and reproach. "I thought—"

"Oh I'm not done," Lexa said. "But that—" she let one fingertip trail one last time over Clarke's clit, "makes _this_ ," and she rolled on top of her, the strap once again rubbing between Clarke's legs, "so much easier, don't you think?"

* * *

"Oh," Clarke said. Then, "Wait. Before—" She hooked her fingers into the hem of Lexa's tank top and tugged it upward, and Lexa lifted her arms and let her pull it free before stretching out on top of her. Goosebumps raced along Lexa's skin when their breasts brushed against each other, and she leaned down to kiss Clarke. Desperation had calmed to desire, and for a few minutes they just kissed and moved against each other, their hips rolling in waves, touching and teasing until neither of them could stand it any longer.

"Lexa..." Clarke breathed, eyes wide and pupils blown. 

"Are you sure?" Lexa asked. 

_Not at all_ , Clarke thought. "Yes," she said. " _Please._ "

And then Lexa – the strap-on, but still Lexa – was inside of her, pausing for a moment to let her breathe and adjust, and then pressing in deeper, and deeper still, stretching Clarke almost beyond what she thought she could handle, but when she looked up into Lexa's clear green eyes, when she felt her fingers in her hair, smoothing it back, checking in to make sure this was okay, she was okay... Clarke knew there was nothing she couldn't handle as long as Lexa was there with her.

Clarke dipped her chin in a nod at the question in Lexa's eyes, and Lexa gave a quick nod back before pressing her lips to Clarke's as she began to thrust. 

It was slow at first, a little cautious as Lexa got the feel of Clarke and what she liked – how hard and deep – and Clarke groaned into her mouth as Lexa found an angle that rubbed her in all the right places. Her body twinged, not an orgasm but that flare of feeling she got sometimes that – if she didn't know her body and what it was capable of so well – she might mistake for one. Her lips slid from Lexa's as she pulled her closer, one hand sliding to the small of her back, urging her on, while the other tangled in her hair. 

Lexa's breath came in hot pants against Clarke's cheek and throat and ear as she increased her pace, losing and then finding again the way to roll her hips to give Clarke friction where she needed it most, driving into her with just the right amount of force so Clarke knew she'd feel it for a good long time even after they were done – and god she hoped that wouldn't be any time soon – without it being painful. 

"Fuck, _Lexa_ ," she moaned, twisting her head toward her, and Lexa pushed herself up on her elbows so they were face to face, eye to eye, and Clarke made a noise she didn't think she'd ever made before that was 'kiss me' and 'don't stop' and 'I'm so close' and 'I don't want this to end' and 'If I don't come soon I might lose my mind.' 

And Lexa _smirked_. She smirked like she understood it perfectly, like Clarke was speaking a language only she understood, and gave Clarke everything she wanted and more. 

Clarke bucked and writhed, her entire body clenching so hard she almost forced the strap out of her as she came. She came so hard the world went black and sparkly for a second, even with her eyes wide open, before coming back into focus, except the whole world was just the sweat-damp, freckled face of a woman whose last name she didn't even know but who she would have given anything and everything for in that moment. And maybe Clarke had given her something in that moment when Lexa had given her the best orgasm, if not ever, at least in her recent memory. 

"Thank you," Clarke whispered, drawing her into a kiss. 

"For what?" Lexa asked, a flicker of confusion deep in the drown pools of her eyes. 

"Everything..."

* * *

Lexa didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She felt like doing both as she pulled out of Clarke and started to peel herself away. She'd been _so close_ , but not close enough, and now...

 _I should go,_ Lexa thought as she reached for the buckle at her hip. _I can't be late for—_ But the thought was cut off by Clarke bucking up against her, twisting and rolling them and pinning Lexa beneath her, and Lexa could only blink up at her. "What—"

"You know what the best part is?" Clarke asked. She straddled Lexa's hips, rubbing against the thick length that stood sentinel at the crux of Lexa's thighs. "The best part is there's no waiting for round two." And she lifted herself up and slid down, down, down, taking it in as deep as it would go and settling with a groan that Lexa couldn't help thinking might have held just the tiniest bit of pain... or maybe she was just projecting. She couldn't – and didn't really want to – imagine what it would be like if their roles were reversed. 

"Shit," she breathed. "You just..." 

"Mm-hmm," Clarke said, like it wasn't a big deal (it was a _very_ big deal), and rocked her hips a little, sending a jolt up Lexa's spine, because her weight added pressure and the movement friction, and Lexa was reminded all at once how close she'd been. 

"Has anyone ever told you..." Clarke drawled, leaning forward and moving her hips again, "... that you are really... _fucking_... good at that?"

Lexa laughed, a burst of breath that turning into a gasp as Clarke lifted slightly and settled again. "Once or twice," she admitted, her cheeks flushing. She didn't say more, not wanting to summon those bittersweet memories. She wanted to be here and now, with Clarke and no one else. She slid her hands up Clarke's thighs to her hips, ghosting her fingers up her ribs and cupping her breasts. Clarke leaned into the touch, her lips curving in a smile as she began to roll her hips in a slow, steady rhythm. 

Lexa moved with her, letting her hands drop back to Clarke's hips when her pleasure plateaued and she started to think she might be stuck at that point of almost-but-not-quite forever. Far from being upset or insulted, Clarke reacted to Lexa's guidance with enthusiasm, letting her set the pace and pressure, taking in and responding to every shift of Lexa's body, every change in her breathing, every flicker of her expression and adjusting to give as good as she got. Sweat beaded on her brow and between her breasts as her entire body flushed, building and building, but it was when she saw Clarke reach down between her own legs to stroke herself as she rode Lexa hard and fast that she finally cracked and broke open, her climax shattering her into a hundred thousand pieces that it might take minutes or hours to find their way back into the shape of a woman. 

Clarke collapsed on her chest, breathless in the afterglow of her third orgasm, and nuzzled against Lexa's cheek, tucking her head into the curve of her neck. They stayed like that for a minute or five or ten... Lexa didn't know and she didn't care because it – she – felt so good. Finally Clarke lifted her hips and the strap freed itself with a slick sound. "That," she gasped, "was the best customer service I have ever received." 

Lexa laughed. Even as tears trickled from the corners of her eyes into her hair (and she hoped Clarke would just think it was sweat) she laughed, and wrapped her arms around Clarke and pulled her in as close as she could get and then just a little closer. 

"Seriously," Clarke said. "Five stars. Is there somewhere I can leave a review? Maybe talk to your manager, tell them you deserve a raise?" She was grinning, laughter in her eyes and in her voice, and what else could Lexa do but kiss her again and again until they were both breathless, and then some more until they weren't. 

When her heart had steadied (as much as it ever would; it was sappy and probably stupid but she couldn't help thinking that it would never beat quite the same way again) and her breathing slowed, Lexa brushed the tip of her nose against Clarke's as she stroked back her hair. "I have to go," she said. 

"I know," Clarke said, wrapping her fingers gently around Lexa's wrist and pressing her cheek into her palm. Her thumb stroked Lexa's pulse and it tripped over itself, just for a second. They just looked at each other, and then Clarke let her go.

Lexa loosened the buckles on the harness and stepped out of it, depositing it back on the towel that had once concealed it, before finding her discarded clothes and dressing again. She could feel Clarke watching her, and had to resist the urge to turn around and tumble right back into bed. It would be Lincoln's own fault if he had to cover for her... but no. 

She strapped her tool belt back on and dared a glance at Clarke. Her heart clenched when she saw the look on Clarke's face and she didn't let herself try to name the emotions that flickered across her features and flooded her eyes. "Service with a smile," she said, forcing herself to suit deed to word, trying to make light of a moment that felt far too heavy. 

Clarke smiled back, but it was a flickering, uncertain thing. Lexa bit her lip and looked away, seeing herself to the door. When she reached to close it behind her, though, it wouldn't budge. She looked up and there was Clarke, clad only in a sheet. "Will I see you again?" she asked. 

Lexa swallowed, her heart banging against her ribs. "When?"

Clarke looked down, then up again, and there was no disguising the hope in her voice. "Tonight?"

And for the first time since Clarke opened the door that morning, Lexa felt like she could really, truly breathe. "I get off at five," she said. "Well, probably closer to five-thirty, allowing for drive time and foreplay..."

Clarke laughed, and pushed herself up on her toes for a kiss. "Don't be late." 

Lexa grinned. "Never."

**Author's Note:**

> And of course a reminder, as more states open up early voting, and we get closer to the election even for those who don't have the option of voting early, check out my [Will Write For Votes](https://ironicsnowflake.tumblr.com/post/631276517801984000/will-write-for-votes) post here.


End file.
